[ War is an unpleasant imperative, the currency of profiteers and politicians, and Graves is but one of the many who are sent to fight the battles old men wage. There is no honor in something so horrific, and the men Graves leads into battle, all of them good and strong and who believe in some sort of higher power (he's denounced that long ago), have all been decimated in the field -- and his only comfort is that they've brought the enemy down with them. How Graves survived, he's not entirely sure -- but he wakes in a soft, warm bed instead of by the sprawling roots of an old oak tree and discovers the strange little family that lifted him from what has surely been death's door.
The Barebones, they are called. Confederates, and surely they must seen him as an enemy. Mary Lou especially, the matriarch who rules the household with a firm hand, who commands her son to attend to him; a young man no more than twenty, pale and a sight to behold, even if he is cowed by his mother. A strange young man, but one Graves quickly discovers is not quite like all the others -- not if the lingering looks are any indication of just where his guilty interest lies.
A sin, a deformity of the soul -- an aberration of God's creatures. He hears it whispered to Credence beyond the closed doors, and he wonders if any mother could truly address their offspring with such condemnation.
Perhaps this is her version of love.
But despite that, Graves knows his interest secretly persists, and he is more than willing to feed it. Soft touches, quietly reassuring words; it's no hardship seducing this boy when Graves finds himself desiring him, wondering what he looks like when he unbuttons that crisp white shirt and kisses over exposed skin, what he sounds like when he presses his mouth to the most erotic, secret parts of him and brings him pleasure beyond what his own hand can give him.
Credence fascinates and beguiles, his seeming innocence a precious, lovely thing that makes Graves ache for more. He wants to peel it from Credence, to take it for himself because he can, because Graves has been without another for so long and the young man's attentions cannot be ignored.
He rests, tonight, musing on these things when he hears the door open quietly, gently, as if unwilling to wake him.
[ as sheltered as credence is, he's not stupid. he's also not unkind: it's credence's influence, small as it may be, that reminds his mother of god's wish for his followers to help others. that gets mary lou to allow a yankee soldier asylum in her home.
he still gets beaten for his insolence but it's worth it. still, despite himself he finds that he's drawn in by this man's handsomeness and charm, urged to sin by dreaming of him at night and so much as letting himself look just a second too long with something longing in his eyes before he leaves the room.
he doesn't know how his mother suspects or knows, but perhaps it's just precautionary or she just thinks her lovely son to be predisposed but there isn't much to be done for it. she's right, isn't she? he's something unworthy, crafted by the devil with his sullied desires. knowing that doesn't stop it though, doesn't save him from imaginings of percival graves kissing him, touching him, dragging mewling cries out of him as though he's playing him like an instrument.
(he could, credence thinks, if only he would.)
he knows that graves is drawing him in, testing him, but he still wonders if it's genuine or some cruel trick - still, his heart aches with wanting affection and he finds himself unable to resist. he spends too much time with the older man, tending to him too dutifully. he looks at him through dark lashes and smiles with full lips, wondering if he has some sort of effect on him. he hopes so.
the night he slips through the door so quietly he's been thinking about it for too long: he'll sate himself with watching him and be done with it. it can't be remedied and his mother would...
for a long time after he shuts the door again he just stands at the side of the bed and watches him, assuming sleep because graves' eyes are closed. but watching him simply isn't enough. it never has been he thinks, wondering after the nights he's fisted over himself but not let himself come out of fear of consequences, leaving himself wanting and lost.
it should be enough, he should make it be enough. instead he hovers over him nervously before leaning down and he knows it's wrong, knows it's a sin, but this will surely be enough. surely he can comfort himself with this.
barely, just barely, he lets his lips brush against graves' mouth. ]
[ graves feels it in that moment, credence's cat-like, quiet movement, as if he's sorry for his own existence, trying hard to go as unnoticed as possible. he feels it in the way he knows he's looking at him -- and while another would be reasonably unsettled, graves knows this is a game they play, where he tempts credence and reels him in, unable to resist the challenge of seducing a beautiful young christian boy with a mouth like sin.
graves wonders if he masturbates, this boy. he wonders if he lies in bed at night and thinks of him, and his answer comes in the form of a soft kiss to his lips; surprising and pleasurable and he knows he cannot pretend anymore. he mustn't, not to credence, and he leans upward, eyes still closed as he kisses him back, ensnaring him as surely as credence does him -- only graves is more than half certain that credence has no idea the effect he has on him.
it's sweet, really -- but in this kiss there is a message: he knows, he knows credence's budding desires, simmering just underneath the surface and begging to be fulfilled. ]
Credence. [ he whispers in the dark, and right then as the rest of the house slumbers on, the world belongs to the both of them. ]
[ in this span of a split second credence feels a singing trail of shivers down his spine, but not in fear or alarm like he's used to. it feels nice, pleasurable, and he wasn't aware that it could be like that but he wants more of it suddenly, more of graves kissing him, more of--
oh, but every time the older man says his name, even innocently in the middle of the afternoon, it sends a coil of heat to his gut. this is worse though, barely audible in the dark, and credence doesn't answer for a moment, almost overwhelmed. he should feel guilty and he does, but he doesn't want to.
he wants to do it again.
instead he hunches forward a little, whispering. ] Mister Graves, I'm sorry, I just--
[ but really, why is he sorry? his kiss was returned, the murmur of his name wasn't disgusted, he hasn't been pushed away... instead of saying anything else he surges forward to kiss graves again, inexperienced and by no means artful but certainly eager.
he wants to show him how he feels now that he knows for sure there's something there on the other side at least. he thinks about graves' eyes on him over the past weeks and it makes him smile against his mouth, pleased with himself.
he wonders too, if graves has touched himself while thinking of credence. the mere thought of it makes the heat in him rise higher and he's sure that the way his face has reddened and heated up will be easy for the older man to feel against him. ]
[ he breathes, a hand coming to cradle the back of his head as he kisses him again, feeling the curve of a smile against his lips. credence must be feeling good, he thinks, and in this kiss he deepens it boldly, tongue slipping between his lips, gently teasing, coaxing him to open up under him. ]
Come in here with me.
[ an invite issued, temptation given a life of its own. credence is eager and inexperienced, and graves is all the more seduced -- he might be grateful to the barebone family for saving his life, but his desire for credence builds with every day that they see each other, in his tentative smiles and gentle touches, the aching of a longing he sees in his eyes.
and here, as long as credence doesn't make any noise, no one will know what they're doing together. he shifts and gives him space to climb in with him, the bed warm from his body heat still. ] Have you done this before?
[ the deepening of the kiss almost surprises him and credence's lips part with a soft gasp, allowing graves the entrance he seeks. the invitation though is enough that he flushes even further, looking at the older man wide-eyed in the dark. but he doesn't want to say no. he nods silently, carefully climbing into the bed with him and placing a hand on his arm. there's a sense of trust there but also want.
he bites his lip slightly and looks away before shaking his head, suddenly even more shy than before. it feels to him like such inexperience will be a problem, that maybe he's not good enough because he won't know what he's doing. still, he finds it in him to whisper. ] No... My ma would have killed me. [ literally or figuratively? he doesn't say. ] I've only thought about it sometimes. I--
[ now he frowns, tucking his head in against graves' shoulder. ] I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.
[ the prospect of stealing his innocence is intoxicating, heady, and his arm moves to wrap around his waist. credence's shyness is appealing, but he knows there's more underneath, and he's intent to coax the devil out of him. graves doesn't believe in his god, doesn't believe in the prayers that the family sends up (to where?) every day.
this is what's real, this is what matters, when credence presses against him and his fingers lift credence's shirt to trace lightly over his stomach. ] Let me make you feel good. Do you trust me?
[ credence bites his lip slightly but nods, still curled there against him. the arm around him is soothing even though he knows what sort of thing is coming. he knows it's not going to be innocent by any means, it's going to be sinful, and it makes his chest hurt but he decides then and there that he's not going to stop.
that shyness is still there nonetheless and when the touch falls to his stomach he sucks in a slightly surprised breath, pulling his head back to look at him again, expression barely visible. he nods again, his voice very soft. ] Yes. I trust you.
[ then, barely audible: ] I want you to make me feel good. Please.
[ how can he deny him when he asks like this, when credence curls against him so willingly that it makes him ache and yearn for more? no, it's not going to be innocent, but graves is more than willing to be gentle with him -- and perhaps, maybe, he will steal him away from here.
he's recovering very well, after all -- with thanks to credence's conscientious care, and he leans forward to kiss him again, hand slipping further down into the waistband of his pants, the back of his knuckles brushing against his cock and the soft curls that almost tickle. ]
[ leaving this place is something credence has wanted for years: even a promise to try would tie his heart to graves' forever. he doesn't know it's even a fleeting thought now though, and it's simple enough to content himself with this sort of affection for now.
(privately he often wonders how long mary lou will allow this man sanctuary in their home. it's a chilling thought.)
he returns this kiss easily, tipping his head into it. it's the brief, feather-light touch to his cock that makes him gasp, just a little. he bites his lip with shy hesitance but obeys, shifting so that he can use both hands and wriggle his way out of his pants at least partway. he feels nervous but he meant it about trusting him: he doesn't think that graves will hurt him, he's just skittish by default.
even with his pants pushed down his shirt covers much of what the older man wishes to see so credence tugs the fabric up and out of the way before it's necessary to ask him.
he knows that graves has already seen the scars on his hands, but he's glad that he can't see the ones on his back or the backs of his thighs like this. those he feels even more shy about, wounded. ]
graves stares at him for a few moments, captivated by his lean body, sleek and lithe and so very young -- he's seen glimpses of the scars on his hands, but there is none that he can see on his torso, and graves' mouth is dry when he pushes down his pants further, urging him to kick it off wholly. he wants him naked now, entirely naked in his bed like this, and he spares precious moments simply drinking him in, greedy and full of desire, burning with the need to touch him, to have him.
he pulls him into his arms and wraps his fingers around the boy's cock, his strokes slow and deliberate from root to head, getting acquainted with the shape and feel of him. oh, credence feels so good, and despite best intentions graves knows that there's no way credence is leaving his bed tonight untouched. ]
Spread your legs. [ he whispers softly, kissing his nose, his lips, his chin, thumbing along the underside of his cock. he's delicate with him, but firm, wanting, eager to have him explore, to show him what it can be like with the both of them, if only credence allows it. ] Touch me, Credence. Find out just how much I want you.
[ he feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with nakedness when graves looks at him like that, with so much desire in his eyes. it almost stops his breath to see it, flush spreading over his skin--
--his breath does hitch when the older man begins to stroke him and he leans against his chest, face burrowed into his shoulder. he doesn't say anything, just soaks in the heady feeling of pleasure spreading through his entire body. he's lifted his head in time to greedily accept those gentle kisses, peering at him through thick lashes before he nods, licking his lips and shifting to spread his legs apart while in the same movement arching his hips into graves' hand with an unspoken please and a breathed out moan. ]
All right... [ he obeys the second request as well, one hand delicately slipping beneath any fabric in his way so that he might wrap his own long fingers around graves' cock. the feel and weight of him are different from his own and he takes a moment to get acquainted with the feeling, gently touching him all over, feeling his hardness. perhaps it will become apparent that credence has in the past touched himself as he's far less fumbling with this than he could be. it's different from doing it to himself but it's the same general idea and he begins to stroke graves' cock in a slow and nearly practiced way - this is the only thing he has experience with, honestly, and it's impressive he can remember to do it when he's so distracted by the hand on his own arousal. ]
Like this? [ he wants to do it right - it's barely breathed out, his hips rocking into graves' hand again insistently. ] It feels good.
[ he tells him quietly, breath hitching when he feels credence obey, those long, elegant fingers (calloused nicely from labor) pleasantly curling around where he's already painfully hard. he's long, thick and heavy in credence's hand, and he rocks into his touch the same way credence does, falling into a familiar rhythm with him. credence is stunning when he's aroused and breathless, beautifully willing when he spreads his legs and graves guides it around his waist, urging him on his side.
graves is in no hurry to escalate this -- no, he wants credence to savor every sensuous, wonderful moment of foreplay, he wants them to understand the intimacy of it as he seduces him all over again, showing him just how intoxicating it is to have another to share this with under the covers, and he pauses only a moment to tuck credence's hair behind his ear, drawing him into another slow, sweet kiss. ]
Yes. Yes, just like this. Let me -- [ credence is a blessedly quick study, and he draws them together, his hand closing around both their dicks as he rubs up against his, deliberate and sure, greedy for more of him. ] Look at me. You don't have to hide.
[ soft, murmured, breathless. he's fascinated by pulling a reaction out of the older man though and continues, insistently stroking over the length of him and teaching himself every difference from his own while tentatively trying things that he knows he personally likes - a gentle squeeze at the base of his cock, fingertips trailing feather-light along the underside.
if graves were only to grip at the back of credence's leg as he moves him he'll be able to feel the roughness of the scarred skin there, evidence of why he craves affection so very much. he's not thinking about it now though, leg tightening around graves' waist even as he returns this kiss, pressing into it with a soft noise against his mouth.
it's when graves urges their cocks against one another to grant them that friction that credence whimpers aloud, hips rolling of their own accord to match him. he obeys yet again, looking at graves, eyes dark and searching as he breathes softly through parted lips. one of his hands is gripping at graves' upper arm as though he needs the grounding. ] Please-- [ it's whispered and barely audible, but he doesn't hide his face this time. ] Wait, I don't let myself... [ he trails off with a little gasping moan, hips jerking again. he doesn't finish the thought but the meaning is clear: even when he touches himself he doesn't let himself come and the thought of it's making him a little anxious. it's not even that he's close yet; it's the eventuality. ]
[ he can feel it, the scar tissue under his fingers, the raised flesh like welts, rough where it should logically be smooth -- but he says nothing. he knows what it is, has suspected even through the closed door and his own isolation. he can sometimes hear snippets of it, the unmistakable sound of leather on flesh and the muted, quiet whimpers that travel to his ears anyway.
graves' heart clenches in his chest, in anger, in protectiveness; credence is quiet, graceful, smarter than his mother can ever give him credit for, with a kindness and hidden steel that anyone would prize in their son. his mother seems to hate him the most, out of all the children in the house, and up until now graves doesn't understand why.
perhaps the fact that credence is willingly naked in his bed, stroking his cock and squeezing it gently in the way that makes him stifle a quiet little moan is the reason why. credence craves affection and graves gives it to him generously, lavishes attention on him partly out of the instinct to survive, and partly because he wants to, because credence ignites a passion and a longing in him he'd feared had been long forgotten. and now, like this, he is all he can think about.
brows raised in surprise at that, he doesn't stop stroking him, kissing that beautifully lush mouth to swallow his little moans. he stills for only a moment, regarding him. ]
You don't spill your seed, Credence? Not even for this, when you're alone in your room? [ his thumb rubs little circles over the head of his cock, lazily shameless, pushing him further because oh, he'll be the first to see it, the first to truly draw it out of him. ]
[ it stands to reason that graves will feel the ones crossing his back as well before too long, but they're there for the same reason: mary lou trying to beat the devil's touch out of her son.
but he's embracing the devil's touch now, isn't he? this is not to say that graves is the devil - hardly - but that mary lou would see him as such, the tempter drawing her son into sin.
but it's as though he's made for it, arching against graves and silencing himself against his mouth and never stopping in touching him, fascinated and exploratory - his hipbones, his abdomen, his chest, back down to his cock. he seems to falter a moment before carefully slipping his hand lower to cradle the older man's balls, caressing them with one hand even as he presses harder into the way he's being kissed.
(it stands to reason that it would feel good as well, considering how sensitive they are.)
the question startles him into stillness though and he finally shakes his head, gaze skirting away briefly. it's clear he's a little embarrassed. ] No, I-- [ he lets out another little whimper at the way graves' thumb rubs over him but he doesn't protest, both hands grasping at his arms now instead. ] If she ever found out somehow that I touched myself like this-- [ so he's afraid of somehow leaving evidence behind, of being caught out. that seems to have flown to the wind though and he doesn't say much more, head dropping back with his lips parted for his breath. ] Please-- [ another barely audible whisper. ] Don't stop.
[ graves promises, words sweet like honey and designed to tempt, to ensnare, to close around him because graves has never wanted someone more than he wants credence now. him and his lovely mouth, his dark hair and eyes, the way he touches him like he's begging to be held down and fucked, right here in the sanctity of this pious little family's house.
he can feel it, how credence so boldly reaches to fondle his balls, and he rocks into him steadily -- yes, yes, just like this -- but when he pulls away graves doesn't stop, rolling him over onto his back with a gleam in his eye. credence's embarrassement and shyness is adorable, but he wants more, and he tracks heated little kisses down his throat, his collarbone, his stomach and to the vee between his hips. ]
My beautiful boy. She will never know.
[ his mouth finds it now, the base of his cock buried under a thatch of curls, lovely and soft. he spreads his legs, insinuating himself between them before he returns the favor, his mouth finding his balls first, taking them into his hot, wet mouth, laving and sucking gently, enjoying the feel of them, the weight and shape, and more than intent on pushing him all the way this time. ]
[ credence is beyond ensnared already. everything that graves says to him coils around him and clouds his mind, his judgment. but a promise is a promise and he nods, content with the reassurance. he doesn't think he'll ever be able to shake that fear but this helps him.
he rolls onto his back easily and looks up at him, face and neck and down onto his chest flushed. as soon as the kisses shift lower credence stretches out his neck, loses his fingers in graves' hair as he arches to try and press closer to his mouth. he gets more and more flustered the lower the older man goes, squirming slightly beneath him.
but then graves' mouth is on him, wet heat and his chest hitches with his breath, feet pressing to the bed to try and keep himself still. another moan, this one louder before he muffles it with his free hand, other fingers tightening in his hair. oh but it feels so good, better than anything he's ever felt already, and he knows how much graves wants him, can feel it in the way he acts, the way he looks at him.
(it's almost overwhelming to think he holds that kind of power over him. he hasn't had power over anything in his entire life but he's somehow made this man heated and wanting just for him.)
he's too distracted from any of that though, gasping out his name into the press of his hand because he's still so terrified of being heard. still, his hips have lifted off the bed slightly, practically begging without so much as a single word. ]
[ he can practically hear him begging for more. the muffled moans and whispers of his name, the way credence is so reactive, his fingers tight in his hair. graves enjoys all of it, savoring the effect he has on this boy, how he plays him like his favorite instrument -- makes him sing so sweetly.
and yet there is more to come, before he leaves his balls and licks a stripe down his cock, sucking gently on the head of it, lips closing wetly around him before taking him into his mouth inch by inch. the lewd, sensusous sound of graves sucking his cock is soft but audible, wet and slick and obscene, as is he between his boy's legs, offering him pleasure only dreamed about in the darkest of night.
he holds his hips down firmly before he takes him deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock presses against the back of his throat and graves is wonderfully, powerfully charmed. he licks and sucks and plays with him, enjoying the feel and shape of his cock in his mouth. he doesn't look away, eyes dark and full of promise. he has him now, and he will never let him go. ]
[ he's not surprised when graves changes his focus but his body jerks slightly anyway, a tiny whine hidden behind his hand. he feels like his head is swimming in the pleasure he feels and he can't help but lift himself up enough to watch him unblinkingly. the sight of him alone is almost as good as the sensation itself and instead of gripping so tightly his fingers smooth through dark hair, nails barely scraping his scalp. with his hips held down it isn't as though he can do much more but his upper body twists, breath catching over and over between moans.
his mind's almost a blank from the sheer pleasure of it, toes pressing down and curling into the sheets.
credence feels so overstimulated, unused to any of this - the next time he says anything he's dropped his hand from his mouth to grip at the sheets that way as well and he just gasps out an oh god, mister graves that almost sounds like a prayer. he's close, but more importantly it seems he's found someone far more tangible to pray to. ]
[ he's close, and graves can taste it on his tongue -- the bittersalty precome, how he feels so coiled and eager, held down and sucked off. he does it harder, sucks and licks and greedily draws in every inch of him, head bobbing up and down as his lips tighten around the base of his dick.
his free hand comes to fondle his balls, before brushing a finger between his cheeks, right where he's yearning to be. credence is a virgin and he will be tight, and he loves how he gasps and says his name, so soft but so lovely to his ears.
come, he wants to tell him. come, and graves will swallow every blessed drop of him. ]
[ by now credence is practically trembling. there's a nervous anticipation at the feel of his hand shifting back further, but he trusts him even if something anxious coils in his throat. also coiling in him is the pleasure in his gut and the quiet fear of being caught that he's been so gently soothed into trying to relax through.
graves' mouth on his cock is impossible to ignore though and it's not that much longer that sees him turning his head to bury his face in the pillow to muffle himself as he lets out a choked moan--it hits him all at once, the unfamiliar sensation of being brought to completion, of actually allowing himself to come, and his entire body language changes so soon as it hits him, tipping him over the edge.
[ it's close, and graves delights in it, smiling at how credence's soft moan is muffled into the pillow, and it makes him wonder just what he will feel like on his hands and knees, when graves is inside him and he has to keep him quiet.
he goes deep, then -- relentless, deepthroating him and drawing him deep inside, stifling a soft answering groan, coaxing him along. he can feel it when he comes, and he takes in everything, swallowing every thick, warm spurt of come, lapping and laving to drag out his orgasm, his finger brushing lightly against that tight, tight hole.
it's approving, how he hums softly, a fierce, masculine sense of pride rising in the face of credence's first ejaculation -- such a curious thing, such a lovely thing, to know that credence has this much self-control over himself. and so he continues, swallowing down every drop, tasting the bittersalty thickness of him and breathing him in before he eventually pulls his mouth away from him, kissing and lapping at his saliva and come-slick cock. he cleans him up, laying a soft, lingering kiss to the head. ]
[ at some point his fingers tighten in graves' hair, body twisting like he's trying to escape the over-stimulation of it, the unfamiliar levels of pleasure overwhelming and eye-opening. he whimpers softly, sitting up to watch him, eyes dark and lids lowered.
(the approving hum feels nice both literally and figuratively.)
he doesn't know what to say. he feels like he's blushing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and he's sure he is, licking his lips and trying to piece back together his orgasm-shattered mind.
eventually he settles on an answer non-verbal and shifts, practically contorting there on the bed so that he can crush his lips against the older man's eagerly, hungrily, fervently, tasting himself on grave's lips and deciding to coyly try and coax his tongue out so that he can taste more--it's sinful, it's filthy, but he's not thinking about that.
perhaps his eagerness is surprising, but hopefully it's pleasing. very slightly shaking hands rest at graves' shoulders after a moment, fingertips pressing in before he whispers, almost comically shy. ]
[ his shyness even in the wake of his first orgasm is most endearing, a lovely thing that graves finds himself charmed by. they kiss hard, and graves affords him a taste of himself, thick on his tongue. he can feel it, that mischievous flicker of his tongue against his own -- it's sinful and filthy and everything he chooses to indulge credence with. he gives him what he seeks, tangling their limbs together.
he's taken this first time, he thinks, and this is a prize he will always remember. his beautiful pale boy writhing in pleasure and delight, given over to sensual exploits and blushing so sweetly -- credence is magnificent in his innocence, and his hand moves to curve over his ass, lazily possessive. ]
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→ baby don't hurt me
The Barebones, they are called. Confederates, and surely they must seen him as an enemy. Mary Lou especially, the matriarch who rules the household with a firm hand, who commands her son to attend to him; a young man no more than twenty, pale and a sight to behold, even if he is cowed by his mother. A strange young man, but one Graves quickly discovers is not quite like all the others -- not if the lingering looks are any indication of just where his guilty interest lies.
A sin, a deformity of the soul -- an aberration of God's creatures. He hears it whispered to Credence beyond the closed doors, and he wonders if any mother could truly address their offspring with such condemnation.
Perhaps this is her version of love.
But despite that, Graves knows his interest secretly persists, and he is more than willing to feed it. Soft touches, quietly reassuring words; it's no hardship seducing this boy when Graves finds himself desiring him, wondering what he looks like when he unbuttons that crisp white shirt and kisses over exposed skin, what he sounds like when he presses his mouth to the most erotic, secret parts of him and brings him pleasure beyond what his own hand can give him.
Credence fascinates and beguiles, his seeming innocence a precious, lovely thing that makes Graves ache for more. He wants to peel it from Credence, to take it for himself because he can, because Graves has been without another for so long and the young man's attentions cannot be ignored.
He rests, tonight, musing on these things when he hears the door open quietly, gently, as if unwilling to wake him.
Credence. ]
no subject
he still gets beaten for his insolence but it's worth it. still, despite himself he finds that he's drawn in by this man's handsomeness and charm, urged to sin by dreaming of him at night and so much as letting himself look just a second too long with something longing in his eyes before he leaves the room.
he doesn't know how his mother suspects or knows, but perhaps it's just precautionary or she just thinks her lovely son to be predisposed but there isn't much to be done for it. she's right, isn't she? he's something unworthy, crafted by the devil with his sullied desires. knowing that doesn't stop it though, doesn't save him from imaginings of percival graves kissing him, touching him, dragging mewling cries out of him as though he's playing him like an instrument.
(he could, credence thinks, if only he would.)
he knows that graves is drawing him in, testing him, but he still wonders if it's genuine or some cruel trick - still, his heart aches with wanting affection and he finds himself unable to resist. he spends too much time with the older man, tending to him too dutifully. he looks at him through dark lashes and smiles with full lips, wondering if he has some sort of effect on him. he hopes so.
the night he slips through the door so quietly he's been thinking about it for too long: he'll sate himself with watching him and be done with it. it can't be remedied and his mother would...
for a long time after he shuts the door again he just stands at the side of the bed and watches him, assuming sleep because graves' eyes are closed. but watching him simply isn't enough. it never has been he thinks, wondering after the nights he's fisted over himself but not let himself come out of fear of consequences, leaving himself wanting and lost.
it should be enough, he should make it be enough. instead he hovers over him nervously before leaning down and he knows it's wrong, knows it's a sin, but this will surely be enough. surely he can comfort himself with this.
barely, just barely, he lets his lips brush against graves' mouth. ]
no subject
graves wonders if he masturbates, this boy. he wonders if he lies in bed at night and thinks of him, and his answer comes in the form of a soft kiss to his lips; surprising and pleasurable and he knows he cannot pretend anymore. he mustn't, not to credence, and he leans upward, eyes still closed as he kisses him back, ensnaring him as surely as credence does him -- only graves is more than half certain that credence has no idea the effect he has on him.
it's sweet, really -- but in this kiss there is a message: he knows, he knows credence's budding desires, simmering just underneath the surface and begging to be fulfilled. ]
Credence. [ he whispers in the dark, and right then as the rest of the house slumbers on, the world belongs to the both of them. ]
no subject
oh, but every time the older man says his name, even innocently in the middle of the afternoon, it sends a coil of heat to his gut. this is worse though, barely audible in the dark, and credence doesn't answer for a moment, almost overwhelmed. he should feel guilty and he does, but he doesn't want to.
he wants to do it again.
instead he hunches forward a little, whispering. ] Mister Graves, I'm sorry, I just--
[ but really, why is he sorry? his kiss was returned, the murmur of his name wasn't disgusted, he hasn't been pushed away... instead of saying anything else he surges forward to kiss graves again, inexperienced and by no means artful but certainly eager.
he wants to show him how he feels now that he knows for sure there's something there on the other side at least. he thinks about graves' eyes on him over the past weeks and it makes him smile against his mouth, pleased with himself.
he wonders too, if graves has touched himself while thinking of credence. the mere thought of it makes the heat in him rise higher and he's sure that the way his face has reddened and heated up will be easy for the older man to feel against him. ]
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[ he breathes, a hand coming to cradle the back of his head as he kisses him again, feeling the curve of a smile against his lips. credence must be feeling good, he thinks, and in this kiss he deepens it boldly, tongue slipping between his lips, gently teasing, coaxing him to open up under him. ]
Come in here with me.
[ an invite issued, temptation given a life of its own. credence is eager and inexperienced, and graves is all the more seduced -- he might be grateful to the barebone family for saving his life, but his desire for credence builds with every day that they see each other, in his tentative smiles and gentle touches, the aching of a longing he sees in his eyes.
and here, as long as credence doesn't make any noise, no one will know what they're doing together. he shifts and gives him space to climb in with him, the bed warm from his body heat still. ] Have you done this before?
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he bites his lip slightly and looks away before shaking his head, suddenly even more shy than before. it feels to him like such inexperience will be a problem, that maybe he's not good enough because he won't know what he's doing. still, he finds it in him to whisper. ] No... My ma would have killed me. [ literally or figuratively? he doesn't say. ] I've only thought about it sometimes. I--
[ now he frowns, tucking his head in against graves' shoulder. ] I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.
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[ the prospect of stealing his innocence is intoxicating, heady, and his arm moves to wrap around his waist. credence's shyness is appealing, but he knows there's more underneath, and he's intent to coax the devil out of him. graves doesn't believe in his god, doesn't believe in the prayers that the family sends up (to where?) every day.
this is what's real, this is what matters, when credence presses against him and his fingers lift credence's shirt to trace lightly over his stomach. ] Let me make you feel good. Do you trust me?
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that shyness is still there nonetheless and when the touch falls to his stomach he sucks in a slightly surprised breath, pulling his head back to look at him again, expression barely visible. he nods again, his voice very soft. ] Yes. I trust you.
[ then, barely audible: ] I want you to make me feel good. Please.
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he's recovering very well, after all -- with thanks to credence's conscientious care, and he leans forward to kiss him again, hand slipping further down into the waistband of his pants, the back of his knuckles brushing against his cock and the soft curls that almost tickle. ]
Push your pants down for me. Let me see you.
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(privately he often wonders how long mary lou will allow this man sanctuary in their home. it's a chilling thought.)
he returns this kiss easily, tipping his head into it. it's the brief, feather-light touch to his cock that makes him gasp, just a little. he bites his lip with shy hesitance but obeys, shifting so that he can use both hands and wriggle his way out of his pants at least partway. he feels nervous but he meant it about trusting him: he doesn't think that graves will hurt him, he's just skittish by default.
even with his pants pushed down his shirt covers much of what the older man wishes to see so credence tugs the fabric up and out of the way before it's necessary to ask him.
he knows that graves has already seen the scars on his hands, but he's glad that he can't see the ones on his back or the backs of his thighs like this. those he feels even more shy about, wounded. ]
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graves stares at him for a few moments, captivated by his lean body, sleek and lithe and so very young -- he's seen glimpses of the scars on his hands, but there is none that he can see on his torso, and graves' mouth is dry when he pushes down his pants further, urging him to kick it off wholly. he wants him naked now, entirely naked in his bed like this, and he spares precious moments simply drinking him in, greedy and full of desire, burning with the need to touch him, to have him.
he pulls him into his arms and wraps his fingers around the boy's cock, his strokes slow and deliberate from root to head, getting acquainted with the shape and feel of him. oh, credence feels so good, and despite best intentions graves knows that there's no way credence is leaving his bed tonight untouched. ]
Spread your legs. [ he whispers softly, kissing his nose, his lips, his chin, thumbing along the underside of his cock. he's delicate with him, but firm, wanting, eager to have him explore, to show him what it can be like with the both of them, if only credence allows it. ] Touch me, Credence. Find out just how much I want you.
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--his breath does hitch when the older man begins to stroke him and he leans against his chest, face burrowed into his shoulder. he doesn't say anything, just soaks in the heady feeling of pleasure spreading through his entire body. he's lifted his head in time to greedily accept those gentle kisses, peering at him through thick lashes before he nods, licking his lips and shifting to spread his legs apart while in the same movement arching his hips into graves' hand with an unspoken please and a breathed out moan. ]
All right... [ he obeys the second request as well, one hand delicately slipping beneath any fabric in his way so that he might wrap his own long fingers around graves' cock. the feel and weight of him are different from his own and he takes a moment to get acquainted with the feeling, gently touching him all over, feeling his hardness. perhaps it will become apparent that credence has in the past touched himself as he's far less fumbling with this than he could be. it's different from doing it to himself but it's the same general idea and he begins to stroke graves' cock in a slow and nearly practiced way - this is the only thing he has experience with, honestly, and it's impressive he can remember to do it when he's so distracted by the hand on his own arousal. ]
Like this? [ he wants to do it right - it's barely breathed out, his hips rocking into graves' hand again insistently. ] It feels good.
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[ he tells him quietly, breath hitching when he feels credence obey, those long, elegant fingers (calloused nicely from labor) pleasantly curling around where he's already painfully hard. he's long, thick and heavy in credence's hand, and he rocks into his touch the same way credence does, falling into a familiar rhythm with him. credence is stunning when he's aroused and breathless, beautifully willing when he spreads his legs and graves guides it around his waist, urging him on his side.
graves is in no hurry to escalate this -- no, he wants credence to savor every sensuous, wonderful moment of foreplay, he wants them to understand the intimacy of it as he seduces him all over again, showing him just how intoxicating it is to have another to share this with under the covers, and he pauses only a moment to tuck credence's hair behind his ear, drawing him into another slow, sweet kiss. ]
Yes. Yes, just like this. Let me -- [ credence is a blessedly quick study, and he draws them together, his hand closing around both their dicks as he rubs up against his, deliberate and sure, greedy for more of him. ] Look at me. You don't have to hide.
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[ soft, murmured, breathless. he's fascinated by pulling a reaction out of the older man though and continues, insistently stroking over the length of him and teaching himself every difference from his own while tentatively trying things that he knows he personally likes - a gentle squeeze at the base of his cock, fingertips trailing feather-light along the underside.
if graves were only to grip at the back of credence's leg as he moves him he'll be able to feel the roughness of the scarred skin there, evidence of why he craves affection so very much. he's not thinking about it now though, leg tightening around graves' waist even as he returns this kiss, pressing into it with a soft noise against his mouth.
it's when graves urges their cocks against one another to grant them that friction that credence whimpers aloud, hips rolling of their own accord to match him. he obeys yet again, looking at graves, eyes dark and searching as he breathes softly through parted lips. one of his hands is gripping at graves' upper arm as though he needs the grounding. ] Please-- [ it's whispered and barely audible, but he doesn't hide his face this time. ] Wait, I don't let myself... [ he trails off with a little gasping moan, hips jerking again. he doesn't finish the thought but the meaning is clear: even when he touches himself he doesn't let himself come and the thought of it's making him a little anxious. it's not even that he's close yet; it's the eventuality. ]
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graves' heart clenches in his chest, in anger, in protectiveness; credence is quiet, graceful, smarter than his mother can ever give him credit for, with a kindness and hidden steel that anyone would prize in their son. his mother seems to hate him the most, out of all the children in the house, and up until now graves doesn't understand why.
perhaps the fact that credence is willingly naked in his bed, stroking his cock and squeezing it gently in the way that makes him stifle a quiet little moan is the reason why. credence craves affection and graves gives it to him generously, lavishes attention on him partly out of the instinct to survive, and partly because he wants to, because credence ignites a passion and a longing in him he'd feared had been long forgotten. and now, like this, he is all he can think about.
brows raised in surprise at that, he doesn't stop stroking him, kissing that beautifully lush mouth to swallow his little moans. he stills for only a moment, regarding him. ]
You don't spill your seed, Credence? Not even for this, when you're alone in your room? [ his thumb rubs little circles over the head of his cock, lazily shameless, pushing him further because oh, he'll be the first to see it, the first to truly draw it out of him. ]
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but he's embracing the devil's touch now, isn't he? this is not to say that graves is the devil - hardly - but that mary lou would see him as such, the tempter drawing her son into sin.
but it's as though he's made for it, arching against graves and silencing himself against his mouth and never stopping in touching him, fascinated and exploratory - his hipbones, his abdomen, his chest, back down to his cock. he seems to falter a moment before carefully slipping his hand lower to cradle the older man's balls, caressing them with one hand even as he presses harder into the way he's being kissed.
(it stands to reason that it would feel good as well, considering how sensitive they are.)
the question startles him into stillness though and he finally shakes his head, gaze skirting away briefly. it's clear he's a little embarrassed. ] No, I-- [ he lets out another little whimper at the way graves' thumb rubs over him but he doesn't protest, both hands grasping at his arms now instead. ] If she ever found out somehow that I touched myself like this-- [ so he's afraid of somehow leaving evidence behind, of being caught out. that seems to have flown to the wind though and he doesn't say much more, head dropping back with his lips parted for his breath. ] Please-- [ another barely audible whisper. ] Don't stop.
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[ graves promises, words sweet like honey and designed to tempt, to ensnare, to close around him because graves has never wanted someone more than he wants credence now. him and his lovely mouth, his dark hair and eyes, the way he touches him like he's begging to be held down and fucked, right here in the sanctity of this pious little family's house.
he can feel it, how credence so boldly reaches to fondle his balls, and he rocks into him steadily -- yes, yes, just like this -- but when he pulls away graves doesn't stop, rolling him over onto his back with a gleam in his eye. credence's embarrassement and shyness is adorable, but he wants more, and he tracks heated little kisses down his throat, his collarbone, his stomach and to the vee between his hips. ]
My beautiful boy. She will never know.
[ his mouth finds it now, the base of his cock buried under a thatch of curls, lovely and soft. he spreads his legs, insinuating himself between them before he returns the favor, his mouth finding his balls first, taking them into his hot, wet mouth, laving and sucking gently, enjoying the feel of them, the weight and shape, and more than intent on pushing him all the way this time. ]
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he rolls onto his back easily and looks up at him, face and neck and down onto his chest flushed. as soon as the kisses shift lower credence stretches out his neck, loses his fingers in graves' hair as he arches to try and press closer to his mouth. he gets more and more flustered the lower the older man goes, squirming slightly beneath him.
but then graves' mouth is on him, wet heat and his chest hitches with his breath, feet pressing to the bed to try and keep himself still. another moan, this one louder before he muffles it with his free hand, other fingers tightening in his hair. oh but it feels so good, better than anything he's ever felt already, and he knows how much graves wants him, can feel it in the way he acts, the way he looks at him.
(it's almost overwhelming to think he holds that kind of power over him. he hasn't had power over anything in his entire life but he's somehow made this man heated and wanting just for him.)
he's too distracted from any of that though, gasping out his name into the press of his hand because he's still so terrified of being heard. still, his hips have lifted off the bed slightly, practically begging without so much as a single word. ]
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and yet there is more to come, before he leaves his balls and licks a stripe down his cock, sucking gently on the head of it, lips closing wetly around him before taking him into his mouth inch by inch. the lewd, sensusous sound of graves sucking his cock is soft but audible, wet and slick and obscene, as is he between his boy's legs, offering him pleasure only dreamed about in the darkest of night.
he holds his hips down firmly before he takes him deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock presses against the back of his throat and graves is wonderfully, powerfully charmed. he licks and sucks and plays with him, enjoying the feel and shape of his cock in his mouth. he doesn't look away, eyes dark and full of promise. he has him now, and he will never let him go. ]
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his mind's almost a blank from the sheer pleasure of it, toes pressing down and curling into the sheets.
credence feels so overstimulated, unused to any of this - the next time he says anything he's dropped his hand from his mouth to grip at the sheets that way as well and he just gasps out an oh god, mister graves that almost sounds like a prayer. he's close, but more importantly it seems he's found someone far more tangible to pray to. ]
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his free hand comes to fondle his balls, before brushing a finger between his cheeks, right where he's yearning to be. credence is a virgin and he will be tight, and he loves how he gasps and says his name, so soft but so lovely to his ears.
come, he wants to tell him. come, and graves will swallow every blessed drop of him. ]
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graves' mouth on his cock is impossible to ignore though and it's not that much longer that sees him turning his head to bury his face in the pillow to muffle himself as he lets out a choked moan--it hits him all at once, the unfamiliar sensation of being brought to completion, of actually allowing himself to come, and his entire body language changes so soon as it hits him, tipping him over the edge.
he's not writhing but it's close. ]
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he goes deep, then -- relentless, deepthroating him and drawing him deep inside, stifling a soft answering groan, coaxing him along. he can feel it when he comes, and he takes in everything, swallowing every thick, warm spurt of come, lapping and laving to drag out his orgasm, his finger brushing lightly against that tight, tight hole.
it's approving, how he hums softly, a fierce, masculine sense of pride rising in the face of credence's first ejaculation -- such a curious thing, such a lovely thing, to know that credence has this much self-control over himself. and so he continues, swallowing down every drop, tasting the bittersalty thickness of him and breathing him in before he eventually pulls his mouth away from him, kissing and lapping at his saliva and come-slick cock. he cleans him up, laying a soft, lingering kiss to the head. ]
How did that feel, Credence?
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(the approving hum feels nice both literally and figuratively.)
he doesn't know what to say. he feels like he's blushing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and he's sure he is, licking his lips and trying to piece back together his orgasm-shattered mind.
eventually he settles on an answer non-verbal and shifts, practically contorting there on the bed so that he can crush his lips against the older man's eagerly, hungrily, fervently, tasting himself on grave's lips and deciding to coyly try and coax his tongue out so that he can taste more--it's sinful, it's filthy, but he's not thinking about that.
perhaps his eagerness is surprising, but hopefully it's pleasing. very slightly shaking hands rest at graves' shoulders after a moment, fingertips pressing in before he whispers, almost comically shy. ]
It felt like I want more.
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[ his shyness even in the wake of his first orgasm is most endearing, a lovely thing that graves finds himself charmed by. they kiss hard, and graves affords him a taste of himself, thick on his tongue. he can feel it, that mischievous flicker of his tongue against his own -- it's sinful and filthy and everything he chooses to indulge credence with. he gives him what he seeks, tangling their limbs together.
he's taken this first time, he thinks, and this is a prize he will always remember. his beautiful pale boy writhing in pleasure and delight, given over to sensual exploits and blushing so sweetly -- credence is magnificent in his innocence, and his hand moves to curve over his ass, lazily possessive. ]
Ointment. Do you have any with you?
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